CHAPTER 34


Monday August 28th 1944

[See the end of this chapter for a Glossary of Suffolk dialect.]

I did fall into a fitful sleep after that and we certainly weren't in a state to go sailing in the morning.  It was decided that we would go and see the fields being cut and the wheat being threshed and then I could have another swimming lesson in the afternoon. Andrew was more his perky self though Lachlan seemed quiet and pensive.

     We watched the binder cutting the wheat going round in circles and I was fascinated by the great steam-engine driving the threshing-machine.  It was so much bigger than I had imagined from the size of the model engine Pa had constructed.  The engine driver said I could get up on the foot-plate to see how it was controlled. I even shovelled in two lots of coal.  Every boy wants to drive a steam engine and here I was!  Andrew and Lachs went off to find hefty sticks to catch the rabbits which they predicted would emerge from the last bit of the standing wheat as it was finally cut.  They joined the half-dozen or so lads who, with small dogs in attendance, were already keeping watch.  Andrew managed to hit one rabbit and killed it outright.  Farmer Catchpole came over to the assembled boys when the wholesale slaughter was over and each of us was given a dead, warm rabbit with the instruction, “Do you tek thet hom quick to your moither, bor, it'll mek a good stew!”  All this was a bit beyond my childhood memories of the adventures of Peter Rabbit though someone there did end up in a pie!  So, proud as Romans returning from the wars with their spoils, we yielded up three dead, fat bunnies to a very delighted Nanny Saunders.

     We watched fascinated as she deftly decapitated the corpses, removing hairy feet which were offered to us as good luck tokens. Quickly, she unzipped each furry jacket with a sharp knife so that, in a trice, the silvery, bluish skinned carcases were revealed, then gutted and chopped into segments for the pot.  She said she'd been brought up on a local farm so had been doing this since a young girl.  In fact, Farmer Catchpole was a cousin of hers so that was why we could always be sure of something a bit extra.  Something extra arrived that afternoon when a young lad brought two pheasants and was rewarded by being shown the boat and promised a sail in it.

     “That's Billy Catchpole's little brother, Georgie, Mr Catchpole is his granddad. Those two girls who came and washed up on Sunday are his sisters, Beryl and Doreen,” said Lachlan after he had gone.  “Dad bought the boat off Billy's Dad.  Billy's in the Army so couldn't sail and Dad said he could have it back after the War.  Billy taught me to sail and I've taught Andrew.”

     “Huh!” said Andrew, once more ready to spar with his brother, “And who can't tie a clove hitch properly, eh?”

     “Just because the rope was wet and my fingers were cold!” said Lachlan making yet another abortive grab at his small adversary.

     “Where would you be on a man-o-war, eh?”  Andrew wrung his hands, “Captain, sir,  my poor fingers are so cold and the cannon's dropped in the sea.” He laughed and dodged out of the way.  “They'd make you walk the plank!”

     Thank goodness last night's spell had been broken!

     The spell was even more broken during the swimming lesson.  I was doing very nicely, thank you, gaining confidence and getting well across the pond without support, when Andrew swam under me and grabbed at my dangling cock and yanked on it.  My concentration, needless to say was broken, I submerged and came up spluttering.

     A laughing Andrew was several yards away, standing up in the water to his chest.  He put his hands to his mouth. “Action stations, U-boat on the port bow.  It's in difficulty because it's periscope was pointing the wrong way!  Depth charges, ready, fire!”

     He dived under the water but the U-boat was ready for him.  I saw his shadow under the water and remembered about refraction and as he made a grab for my genitalia again I submerged, holding my breath and caught him cleanly round the shoulders.  With the help of the buoyancy of the water I lifted him straight up and delivered three sharp slaps to his backside.  He looked surprised.

     “Don't take advantage of your elders and betters,” I said in as stern a manner as possible.

     Lachs, who had watched the whole episode, swam over.

     “Thank goodness there's someone else to cope with the little demon. Shall we show him who are really the bosses?”

     Poor Andrew.  He was giggling and squirming fit to bust by now and giggled and writhed even more as two wet and dripping elders and betters subjected him to a violent bout of tickling until he was breathless and had just about enough puff to call out “Pax”.

     As he lay there panting, Lachlan nudged me and pointed. Andrew's four and a half inches of boy meat was stiff as a board.  I quickly moved up, catching hold of Andrew's arms and pinning them down above his head.  Lachlan sat across his legs and then, delicately, put his finger and thumb at the base of the young erection and pulled.  Andrew's foreskin slipped down and his pink acorn was exposed. He gasped

     “What do you think of that, Jacko?  Skinned just like a young rabbit.  Not much for a nice pie, though.”

     Andrew was not to be beaten.  “Speak for yourself, you're no donkey dong either, yours couldn't even make holes in doughnuts!”  He looked up at me, upside down, with guileless eyes, “At least Jacko could fill the doughnuts with plenty of fresh cream!”

     Who was boss now!  We had to let him go and contented ourselves with picking long fronds of grass and tickling him with these while his perfectly formed young prick remained steadfastly erect.  In the end we lay head to head while they questioned me further about my sexual experiences.  They were intrigued when I told them, mentioning no name, about the time I tormented Tom by keeping him tied up.  Gradually I heard about them.  Keeping his eyes firmly on Andrew, who, wisely kept his mouth shut, Lachlan confessed - no not really confessed as he said it with feeling - that he and Bradley had, in fact tossed each other off on quite a few occasions.  He said he liked Bradley very much, he didn't mind fagging for him or being his batman at camp, he was kind and considerate and rather maligned by his class-mates.  Lachlan said Bradley knew he wasn't the fullest tank in the shithouse - a phrase I'd never heard before - but Captain Harrison had told him he would make a very fine officer as long as he kept his head.

     I found out that Captain Harrison was in charge of all the Cadets and was both revered and feared.  It was he who had come across the fracas when Lachlan had beaten up the bully.

     “Tell him, Lachs!” Andrew said quietly when I asked what had happened.

     “I will, but you mustn't think I'm boasting,” he said and put a hand out and caressed his brother's knee. “Andrew told me he'd said to you about it.  I didn't want him too.  But this Lawson kept calling me names.  He's not in our Company and ours got the training cup last year and he didn't like it.”  He looked at me and smiled.  “He kept calling me Private Short-arse and that Fitzroy...,” He stopped stroking Andrew's knee and just let his hand rest there.  Andrew put his small hand on top of it.   “...kept egging him on. They knew I was friendly with Bradley so they kept emphasising the arse.  That day we'd had a special drill practice for Founder's Day and I'd been chosen to give some of the orders.  After the  parade I was walking just in front of Lawson and a couple of others when he said that I may be Private Short-arse but I took long ones in my stride.  I just turned round and thumped him - right in the solar plexus - there!”  He prodded me - right there!  “He's tall and that's as far as I could reach.  It stunned him a bit so I hit him again and he went down and his friends scattered.  I was just going to beat his brains in as well - if there were any - when Captain Harrison came round the corner.  All his pals disappeared and there was him on the ground.  I know Captain Harrison knew what had happened..  He just said, `Get up off the ground, Private Lawson, shake hands and go to the Guardroom and wait for me there'.  He shook hands with me and marched off.  Captain Harrison looked down at me `cause he's six foot five and said `You get to the Guardroom too and don't let me ever find you hitting a boy smaller than yourself again!'” He waited and Andrew squeezed his hand.  “We both got extra duties and Lawson did apologise.”

     “Potty says he's easily led but not too bad underneath.  But no-one's called me, or him, short-arse since!” said Andrew.

     Smaller than him?  Lawson was a midget in comparison with Lachlan.  Captain Harrison was a good judge of character!

     We made all our plans for the visit to Felixstowe the next day.  I asked where they would leave the sailing boat but they showed me we would be using a small rowboat, just big enough for two boys or one boy and, perhaps, the three bikes.  Lachlan would row.  We worked out that the best way was for him to take Andrew across first, come back and I would help load the bikes, then on the third run I would be collected.  I thought he'd be worn out before we even started cycling down the lanes.

     We wore each other out that night in bed.  As soon as I got into bed Andrew was between my legs trying to take my whole length in his mouth.  He calmed down when his brother smacked his bottom and said to take things a bit more slowly.  We did and repeated the trio of two nights before.  I noticed as soon as Andrew realised I was about to start unloading he only had the tip of my cock in his mouth.  The first couple of shots landed inside his mouth but he pulled away and I coated the side of his nose and forehead with the rest.  I had come first and continued to work on Lachlan's mushroom end, licking on that favoured spot.  His spunk was quite copious and I kept as much as I could in my mouth.  I heard Andrew gasping and moaning as his juice flowed.  Quickly I moved in the bed and wiped my sticky, cum-coated tongue down his cheek the other side.  Lachlan saw what I was doing and added the remnants of Andrew's own outflow straight down his nose and onto his lips.

     “I like you better with that decoration than with the paint!” I whispered as he put a hand up to investigate the sticky donations enhancing his beauty.

     He refused the offer of the face-cloth and we lay just chatting until Andrew dived down the bed again and clamped his jaws round Lachlan's once-again rigid rod.  A second round of the trio ensued, which done slowly and carefully must have lasted the best part of an hour.   Andrew broke the spell as my sucking mouth drew his spunk out first.  I came next but Andrew licked and sucked Lachlan for a long time after that before his orgasm happened.  I had helped as in the last few minutes I gently held and rolled his testicles until they were drawn up to the base of his prick.

     Even after that seeming marathon we were not ready for sleep.  We were relaxed but, I think, still a bit on edge as well, waiting, listening in case another batch of Doodlebugs appeared.  I had continued with a whispered version of the trip to the firing-range with Mike when Andrew's hand started to gently feel my limp cock.  That delicate touch soon resulted in the usual erection and cessation of my tale-telling.  Soon three boys were equally erect and one by one our partners caused a third, profound, almost excruciating, but oh so satisfying, spasm of delight. Although Andrew had begun with me his was the final orgasm as he patiently waited until I brought squeals from his brother who then, very slowly raised him to quivering heights of extreme tension and blessed release.

     No Doodlebugs came that night and we slept soundly after that

                         *

     I woke suddenly, bursting for a pee.  I glanced at my watch.  It was already nearly eight o'clock.  In the distance I could hear the tractor pulling the binder round a field.  We lazy tykes were still a-bed while England worked. I prodded them awoke.  They were bleary-eyed this morning and Andrew had the added condition of a crusted face.  I said my friend Mike had said it was good for spots and after lengthy inspection in the bathroom mirror, after washing the remains away, Andrew announced he didn't have any.  I suggested he'd better get Lachlan to apply the lotion every night and nearly got a whack in the goolies from Lachlan.  In retaliation I said he probably wasn't capable of producing enough every day which resulted in me being pursued into the bedroom where he slapped me on the legs with a wet face-cloth.  I wrestled it from him and managed to get him over the bed where I tickled his saggy bollocks with a corner of it.
     “Good for you,” said Andrew who had finished his ablutions and came into the bedroom. “He needs someone to keep him clean down there now he won't let Nanny Sunders wipe his bottom!”  He wrinkled his nose.  “He's better than Potty though, some of them call him Skid Mark Alley behind his back!”

     “Let me up, Jacko, please, I'll....”

     Andrew came over and put a hand over his mouth and took the flannel from my hand.

     “Here, you hold him and I'll check him.  I can tell them back at school he needs to be checked every morning.”

     Lachlan was spluttering.  “Get that child off me!  Ow,” This in response to Andrew pushing the damp cloth roughly between his legs.

     Andrew withdrew the cloth and pretended to examine it. He shook his head.

     “I will have to talk to Nanny Saunders about his toilet-training.  We can't have him roaming Felixstowe with a dirty bum!”

     “I'll dirty bum you,” he raved, he looked at me trying to keep a straight face.  “I thought you were my friend and you let him insult me?”

     I let him go and he catapulted himself off the bed, grabbing the face-cloth from his brother and waving it.

     “Look, wretch, it's clean!  Lying little hound.  You say anything at school....”

     I just laughed, they were off again.  The bantam-cock was roused.  He turned to me.

     “You're very lucky you don't have a brother...”  He stopped. All venom dissipated.  “No, I don't mean that.  I'd miss him!”

     Andrew then jumped up onto the bed and jumped off immediately, upwards, onto me, his arms round my neck and his legs round my waist.  I overbalanced and fell onto the bed.  He was giggling.

     “You can have me, I'll be your brother, old sour-puss would miss me then, wouldn't he? ....So there!”  This last directed at a grinning Lachlan who took the opportunity to administer quite a stinging sounding slap to Andrew's exposed bottom.  “Ow! That hurt!”

     He pushed away from me and tried to get at his brother who fended him off with the face-cloth, expertly wielded, slapping his back, chest, sides and legs until, exhausted by laughing, Andrew dropped to his knees and bowed low.  “Master, I am your slave, do not beat me.”

     These sudden changes, a result of years of brotherly play were exhausting for me.  I couldn't always work out what was play or what was for real. I decided that with these two never to take anything as too serious, unless...  Here I was at a bit of a loss...  Everything was serious for them  - their love for each other, the protectiveness of the older brother for the younger, the way each wanted the best, or the same, for the other.  As an only child I was missing a lot.  But, I was lucky in the number of good friends I had.  I would have to try to explain all this to them over the next few days.

     Andrew was up again and in charge.  “Come on you two, get washed and dressed, it's breakfast time and we want to be off soon.”

     Lachlan looked at me with an air of resignation.  We shared the sink and the face-cloth and the towel and grinned at each other as we washed, listening as Andrew chuntered away in the bedroom.  Andrew had dressed, made the bed and had laid out our clothes, a clean shirt, shorts, with underpants today for Lachlan.  The chuntering was because in my pile in the chest of drawers he had found my jockstrap and was standing stretching the elastic and looking intently at the pouch.

     “Where did you get this?” he asked as I took it from him and put it on.  I said it was part of the Chris Gardiner bequest - I hadn't told them, yet, about the French letters or the photos.  Lachlan said Bradley wore one when playing rugger and he was going to get one himself when next in London.

     Andrew sniffed.  “At least Jacko's got something to fill it with!....”

     Before he said anything else I slipped it off and handed it to Lachlan. “You have it today...  And midget balls can try it tomorrow - he can wear it over his head as a nosebag like the coalman's horse!  He'll like that, we can put his rations in it.”

     Andrew looked at me menacingly.  “Midget balls!...” he repeated, “I'll give you midget balls tonight and I don't want that thing tomorrow with his stink up my nose all day!...” His face changed.  “Can I have it tomorrow if you wear it today?”

     I swatted him with the underpants I'd got out to wear instead.

     “You will wear it tomorrow properly!”

     He made a face.  “Potty says they're awfully draughty on a cold winter's day.  Freezes your bum-hole.”  He looked at his brother.  “Good, I hope it's chilly today and you'll just swell up with all your farts kept in!” He looked at me.  “He's just like Toad of Toad Hall, `Parp, Parp', you can hear him coming for miles!”

     I thought I would try the backchat!  “Shut up, Andrew, or I'll write to Potty and tell him everyone can hear you coming for miles.  I thought the noise you made last night would have woken Nanny Saunders and I expected her to come rushing in with a dummy to keep you quiet....  Perhaps we might shove two big dummies in tonight..., eh Lachs?....”

     Lachs was wisely keeping quiet - let a new adversary try his hand!
     “Huh,” riposted Andrew, “Two big dummies yourself and those things....” He pointed at our groin areas, “....Those things wouldn't stop a draught through a keyhole...!”

     It was no good!  I looked at Lachlan and shrugged my shoulders.  A slight smile played at the edge of his mouth.  We both knew when we were beaten, but..., time for more.  Both I and Lachs had finished dressing, so, breakfast, and the beginning of our trip.

     Lachlan handled the little rowboat most expertly.  I took my plimsolls off to stand in the shallows to load the bikes on the second trip across with Andrew on the far bank shouting out instructions which we studiously ignored.  The expertise in handling the boat was noticeable as he didn't attempt to row straight across but rowed a bit upstream and let the river coming down gently land him on the other bank.  So, we were soon off on a tiny, narrow lane away from the mud flats and were soon passing through the little, quiet villages.  I was intrigued when Lachlan pointed out two churches in one churchyard and said the door of one still bore the marks of the bullets fired at it by the Roundheads.  I said that was real history and we had been told Cardinal Wolsey had been born in Ipswich and had been the son of a butcher and I knew a bit about the later battles between the Cavaliers and the Roundheads.  He laughed and said it was true about Wolsey and when we sailed up to Ipswich next he would show me all that remained of Wolsey there and there was a hundred years between him and poor old King Charles.

     It was odd, I lived in Kerslake, with an ancient cathedral, but this countryside seemed so much older. I hadn't really been so interested in history but I thought here time had perhaps, stood still for long periods.

     Lachlan said we would go down to the older part first where there had been lots of sailing boats before the war.  We coasted down from the flat land down to sea level and followed a road through marshes until we reached Felixstowe Ferry.  On the way I saw a couple of strange buildings looking like massive truncated, squat cones.  I learned more history as Lachlan told me they were Martello Towers, built when Napoleon was a threat to England.  He said they'd never fired a shot in anger from them and the one we passed quite close to was used by the Coastguards now.  We also saw where bombs had been dropped nearby as houses were damaged and the little tin Church was destroyed.  There were also a couple of small dark public-houses which looked as if they had emerged from the dank soil many years before.  As we approached the river I could see a large mansion on the other side and behind the mansion were very tall masts.  Lachlan said they were something to do with wireless but he didn't know any more.  He said we couldn't go onto the beach as it was mined and as we got closer to the jetty I saw the tangled barbed wire and steel structures stretching round the sea coast.  At the jetty were a couple of RAF men, with rifles, guarding it.  We pushed our bikes onto the shingle beach leading upriver.  There were a number of strange old houseboats and what looked like an aeroplane fuselage which Lachlan said someone lived in.  We then heard cheery whistling and saw three lads industriously cleaning the base of a boat which was up on a couple of trestles.

     Lachlan strode forward and parked his bike against a convenient pile of old wood.  We followed suit and trailed behind him as he went up to the biggest boy.

     “That's a pinnace, isn't it?”
     The lad stood up.  He was dressed in blue shorts and a blue jersey with SEA SCOUTS prominently emblazoned across the chest.

     “Yes, eight-man pinnace.”  He looked us over as the other lads also looked up.  Both were in blue shirts and shorts and one was wearing a sailor's cap with SEA SCOUTS on the band round its edge.  “You're not from round here.”

     “No, we live near Pinmill,” Lachlan announced, going up and rubbing his hand on the highly varnished side of the boat.

     The tall lad looked interested, he knew the place.  “D'you sail?” he asked.

     “Yes, I have a twelve-foot dinghy.., built here,” he indicated by waving towards a black-painted wooden building near us.

     “...And half of it belongs to me...,” said Andrew, stepping forward and sticking out a hand.  “I'm Andrew Cameron and this is my brother Lachlan and our cousin Jacko Thomson.”

     The tall lad laughed and dropped the scrubbing brush he was holding into the bucket at his feet.  He shook hands with Andrew, then us. “...And I'm Douggie Roberts... and this pair are Davey and Brian.  We're cleaning things up because we've got an inspection this weekend.”

     Lachlan was not going to be upstaged by Andrew.  “D'you sail?”

     The lad shook his head.  “Not much now, Skip's had to go into the Navy.  We used to do a lot up river as far as Woodbridge, but now we row this or take our dinghy up Kingsfleet.  Still it's great fun, isn't it?”  He turned to the two younger lads who nodded in agreement.

     “What's that place over there?” I asked, pointing behind me to the mansion with the masts.

     The big lad laughed.  “Shouldn't tell you, it's all hush-hush.  It's Bawdsey Manor and the RAF have it, something to do with radio.  A couple of boys at school who live in the village say their wireless is often too noisy to listen to.”

     “How do they get across?  There's no bridge.”

     “Oh, the RAF men ferry them.  You can only go across if you live in the village.”

     After a bit more chit-chat and questioning from Lachlan we bade them farewell and set off back along the road across the marshes.  We cycled up along the coast road and then down and followed the road behind the shoreline which was heavily decorated with the barbed wire and metal stanchions we'd seen before.

     “I'll show you where Mrs Simpson stayed when she was getting her divorce,” announced Lachlan.  “It's here.”  He indicated a rather nondescript house back from the road.

     Mrs Simpson?  I knew little about what had happened just before the war.  I knew we had a Coronation and that the previous King had abdicated because he'd married an American.  Oh, yes, I remembered, she was divorced.

     “How do you know this?” I asked, wondering why she would stay here.

     Lachlan grinned.  “Dad was extra equerry or something at the Palace and he told me.  He said he was chosen `cause he was short like Edward who was the King, but he wasn't there long.”

     Nothing else was forthcoming and we cycled along up a hill and then down a very bent hill back on the shore road again.  A bit further along was a grassy bit near the wall leading to the sea.  Lachlan proposed we stopped and had the sandwiches and pop in his saddle-bag.  I looked over the wall and saw the defences again, stretching endlessly all along the expanse of the coast.  Lachlan joined me.

     “Holland's over there, I think that's where those rocket things come from,” he said, pointing towards the horizon, “And those guns we heard are along there.”  He pointed to his right.

     It all looked very desolate, the pier had a large piece missing from the middle and what must have been a thriving seaside holiday place now just had us boys and a few elderly looking people around.

     Andrew was restless after we'd eaten and rested for a while.  “Let's go into the town,” he said, “It's Mum's birthday next week and we've got to get her a present. And then we can go and see old Auntie Maude!”

     We rode back along the road and pushed our bikes up the bent hill and rode up the main street.  As we passed one shop I saw exactly what I wanted for myself.  A nice neat wooden photo frame for the photo of Piers and Miles.  I had that at the bottom of my case tucked inside a Meccano magazine to keep it flat and safe.  So far, I hadn't told the boys about Piers.

     I stopped and the two boys followed me into the shop after having propped our bikes up outside.  In fact, there were two identical frames so I thought one would be a nice gift for Aunt Della for having me to stay.  The boys thought so too as they said she had lots of photos which could go into it.  They wanted to know what the other frame was for and I said I would tell them later. They hunted around and by the time I'd paid for my frames they had chosen things too.  Aunt Maude was our next port of call.

     It wasn't far to her neat looking villa.  We parked our bikes in her front garden against the wall where the iron railings had been removed, `for the War Effort'.  Lachlan rang the bell and the door was soon opened by a tall lady, grey hair back in a bun, a thick tweed suit in the middle of summer, and steel-rimmed specs.  She smiled when she saw us.

     “Ah, my great-nephews and friend.  You'd better come in.”  She closed the door behind us.  “Watch out for Rajah he's in a funny mood today.”  We went into a large room with lots of comfy chairs in and on the table in the middle sat the biggest long-haired cat I'd ever seen.  The Bran of the cat world, I thought.  Rajah gave a loud `miaow' as we stood and looked at him.

     “Don't go near him,” Andrew whispered urgently, “He scratched me last time I came.”  

     “Well, sit down,” commanded Aunt Maude, “I suppose you want some tea?”

     We all nodded vigorously and she disappeared out while we sat down and looked at each other and grinned rather self-consciously.  Rajah looked at us all in turn then, for a cat that size, jumped agilely off the table, jumped up onto the upholstered arm of my chair and sat, heavily, on my lap.  He purred loudly and looked up at me steadily with his golden eyes.  I put a hand out and stroked his head.  He purred even louder. The boys looked astounded.

     “Crumbs!” said Lachlan, “He's never done that with us before. He scratched Andrew last time and hissed and spat at me the time before.”

     Aunt Maude reappeared with a large tray laden with thick sandwiches and a plate of fancy cakes.  She took one look at me and the cat.

     “You must be a reincarnation of an Egyptian Pharaoh,” she said quite unconcernedly and went off out again.

     Andrew made a screwing movement against his head..  “Bats!” he mouthed.

     Rajah stopped purring and turned his head and looked at him.  I stroked his head again and the purring resumed.  Andrew sat up straight and looked subdued for once.  Lachlan watched us both intently without moving a muscle in his face.

     Aunt Maude came in again, this time with a tray with a teapot and  cups and saucers.

     “Cats always know their own,” she announced, “You'll have a long and happy life most of the time.  Nine lives or the equivalent!  Don't worry, whatever happens to you you'll come out on top.  Rajah knows.”  She turned to Lachlan.  “Have you come to survey your inheritance, Lachlan?”

     Lachlan grinned.  “You always ask that.  What am I supposed to answer?”

     “Like you always say when you get outside, `Yes',” said Andrew.

     Aunt Maude laughed.  “Good, I like that!  You are just like your father was, straight and honest.  So Lachlan, is that what you say?”

     Lachlan grinned, “Of course it is, who wouldn't and may we have some tea, please?”

     Aunt Maude turned out to be not as formidable as she looked.  She wanted to know about me and I did ask about the cat and why he'd chosen me.  She laughed and said she hadn't the foggiest idea and I shouldn't believe half the clap-trap I heard and as far as she was concerned, cats were cats and, as for Egyptian Pharaohs, they were dead and buried a long time ago.  She wanted to know if I approved of Uncle Edward marrying, especially as he would have this cart-load of monkeys to put up with.  I said from what I knew of Uncle Edward he would be on the cart with them.  She was highly amused at this and the boys liked it as well.  What with talk and food it was very pleasant.  Except for one thing - the weight of the cat!  He sat on me the whole time and accepted a shrimp  - with purring pleasure - that I held out to him which had fallen from a heavily loaded sandwich.  He purred non-stop after that and when it was time to go he calmly jumped off me and followed us to the door.

     When we got to the end of the road Lachlan said he'd never seen the cat behave like that.

     “We'd better watch Jacko carefully or he'll be after our inheritance,” said Andrew.

     We arrived back at their house, tired and hungry again.  We were met with the most delicious smell.  It was rabbit pie.  Although I'd had my fair share of eats at Aunt Maude's I was ready for that pie.  Nanny Saunders beamed when I did my Oliver Twist act and asked for more.

     Nine o'clock came and we were off to bed.  I was going to be taught to sail the next morning.  So, early to bed and early to rise.  We were early to rise.  Masts were already hoisted as we undressed and even Andrew raised his eyebrows at the sight of Lachlan's hefty erection in the pouch of my jockstrap.  He went over as Lachlan was lifting his shirt over his head and felt the horny lump in the cotton covering. Lachlan stood motionless, his precious possessions were vulnerable.  He needn't worry, Andrew was contemplating.

     “Potty said my brother should be going into the Navy because he's so interested in boats.  I think he should join the Wrens then he could get the Admiral's pinnace out!”  He gave the bulge a squeeze.  “Potty said three Wrens fell in the sea and six blue-tits came out and Walters asked him what he meant. We all laughed and he said he'd learn when he was older. I know about the pinnace one `cause I thought you would have said that joke to those boys this morning but what did Potty mean about the blue-tits?”

     He stroked the stretched fabric and then stood back.

     Pinnace.., penis....!  That joke had gone the rounds at school a few weeks ago so I knew that one.  I giggled about the Wrens and the blue-tits.  Tits were beginning to be an obsession with some of our class.  Danny Ross and Dave Morgan were always playing Battleships and Danny always drew his circles with a dot in the middle and said they were Battle-tits.

     Lachlan didn't try to put his brother down.  He took the jockstrap off and handed it to me.  I gave it to Andrew.

     “You wear it properly tomorrow, OK,” I said.  He smiled.

     “Come on, Andrew, let's get into bed, you can be in the middle,” said his brother.

     Between us we enlightened Andrew, from our own meagre knowledge, about the differences between boys and girls.  Lachlan's direct, earthy, descriptions were culled from sessions with Billy Catchpole when Billy was extolling the mammary and other virtues of some girl in the village on their sailing trips up river. Neither of us really knew what happened to girls every month.  Matt had said his sister was usually more scratchy than ever when she had the `Curse' as she called it and his tale of blood made me cringe a bit.  Lachlan did have more to add on this as Sibs had confided in him about his two older sisters and their predicaments at times. Girls!

     But then, neither boy had explored the differences, so I added my bit about what had happened with Kats and the girl in the Junior School.  Neither Lachlan nor Andrew had been to school with any girls.  Both had gone to boarding school when they were seven and a half having had little education before that other than being taught to read and learning to count.  Their education in country matters, however, was extensive.  Tits and udders were now equated and as both had witnessed horses, bulls and cows, cocks and hens, all copulating extensively, that aspect of sexual knowledge was easy to comprehend. I said about Bran fucking the poor bitch and that amused them highly.  So, between us we erected a sexual edifice, shaky, I suppose, on its foundations but sufficient for the moment.  Lachlan said the main conversation with the older boys and especially those in Remove was `fucking' and what they did on holiday and what they intended to do once away from school.

     At the mention of `fucking' and Remove Andrew went tense.  I put my hand down Andrew's front and gently took hold of his stiff prick.  I rubbed it up and down a couple of times.  He wriggled and mewed with pleasure, turn his head and nuzzled his chin against my chest.

     “Have you done this with any other boys?” I asked, “Other than Lachs and those two thugs?”

     He spoke quietly and firmly.  “I had to do it to those two, I wanted to do it with Lachs.....,”  A moment's pause...”...No, only Lachs and you.”  He rubbed his head on me as I gripped his hot young rod.  “I couldn't make stuff until Easter.  I copied Lachs and I did it.  He'd tried me before but I couldn't.  He's been doing it for years.”

     Lachs interrupted him.  “But I am older than you.  And, I was the same age when I found out.”

     Crumbs, I'd been nearly fourteen when I found out, they had been much older and some of my friends had been much younger! Boys were certainly different from each other!

     Lachlan leaned over a bit and put his hand down over mine on Andrew's cock.  I entwined my fingers with his and we put our thumbs between Andrew's cock and his belly and pressed it against our fingers.  “I knew about it ages before I could do it,” he said, “When I was in my last two years at Prep School I was in a dorm and there were twelve of us.  Some of the older ones had already started and used to do it every night and when others found they could they had to give a demonstration.  Sibs found out before we left Prep School, he was in my dorm.  He was about thirteen and a half `cause that's when most of us came up to Big School.  No one ever asked me if I could do it `cause they'd seen me when we took baths and I was small as well.

     “When we got to Big School that's when I started to share with Sibs who's my best friend,” he went on.   “He was doing it one night and I thought I'd better try and I made a little bit of stuff.  I told Sibs but I've never done it to him and he hasn't done it to me.  We do it every night at the same time though.”  He clenched his fingers in mine.  “I've only done it with Bradley and Andrew and you.”

     “Potty says your Sibs' second best friend `cause his best friend is his right hand,” said Andrew quietly.

     Lach's clenched his fingers again so Andrew's tool was compressed.  “Shut up you, you spread all sorts of gossip and tittle-tattle!”

     “Humph,” went Andrew, “You'd never know anything that went on at school if I didn't tell you.  Potty says you go about like a Foolish Virgin waiting for someone to oil your works or work your oil.  And I know Sibs wouldn't mind you doing it with him.  I saw his rough book when I was in your room and the margin's covered in S's and L's all curly and together.”

     “Will you shut up, Jacko doesn't want to hear all that rubbish!”

     “It's not rubbish.  And Cartwright asked me if we wanted to go and visit him in Cumberland at Christmas and Potty said I'd be gooseberry `cause Cartwright's keen on you but all you do is discuss how to pull-through your rifles when....”

     Lachlan's fingers were quickly un-entwined.  He rolled over on top of his brother, a hand clamped over his mouth.  “Shut up.  And you never told me Cartwright asked you that..”

     There was a laughing, unintelligible, “Wah, wah, wha...” from Andrew.

     “Sounds as if you have a secret admirer there,” I said, adding fuel to the fire.

     Lachlan's hand came away from Andrew's mouth who managed to blurt out, “And he's got a dick like a donkey `cause I saw  him in the showers when I was touch judge for that rugger match!  Potty says his is the biggest in the school!”

     “Shut up the pair of you,” said Lachlan.  He rolled off the heaving giggling Andrew and faced me.  “It's bad enough having to control him...”

     I put a hand out and found Lachlan's stiffy.  “Looks as if something someone said had an effect.”

     Lachlan laughed. “Haven't you noticed, it's been like that a long while...”

     “Not Cartwright?” I asked.

     “Perhaps..” he slapped his brother who was giggling uncontrollably now, “I've wondered but, no..., I haven't.  But just wait until I get Potty next term.”
     “Who is this Potty?” I asked, having heard his name mentioned so many times as the fount of all wisdom, or gossip.

     Andrew was now in control of his mirth.  “Oh, he's Potterton, he's in our House,” he said, “He's a swot but he's great fun.  Says he keeps us sane and sensible. He'll be in his last year when we go back next term and he wants to go to Cambridge.  He's mad keen on military history and I've been fagging for him so he tells me everything.”

     I then found out the senior boys had the privilege of having one or two of the younger boys to keep their room clean and to make tea and so on.  That was how Lachs had had his experiences with Bradley.

     “Are you going to accept Cartwright's invitation?” I asked Andrew.

     “It's nothing to do with him,” bristled Lachlan, “If we accept I'll make the decision.”

     Andrew prodded me, “Gooseberry pie for Christmas lunch!”

     Simultaneously Lachlan and I grabbed at his shaft.

     “You shut up, child...  And you...  I'll deal with you later!”

     A struggling Andrew was held down with one of Lachlan's arms across his chest while we somehow stretched his prick within our two fists and wanked him fast and hard in perfect synchrony.  Lachlan and I looked at each other over his recumbent body and as we felt his prick jerk as he spurted his juice Lachlan winked at me.  We held on and to a series of yelps and body heavings we continued until with an almost pitiful half-stifled yell young Andrew let fly with a second load.  As we were kind we let go and he lay there quivering.

     He didn't know what to do next.  He turned and clutched at Lachlan and then rolled over and hugged me spreading sticky cum over me in the process.  He was in a frenzy.  He slid down the bed a bit and started to suck on Lachlan's cock while wanking me at the same time.  Both of us had been raised to horny heights at Andrew's response to our mighty effort it didn't long before both of us shed our loads.  Mine joined the sticky juice already on my stomach while Andrew gurgled as he slurped down Lachlan's semen.  When he'd finished he crawled up between us and we all slept soundly.  I was to be dealt with much later!

                         *
               Wednesday 30th August 1944

     I was awoken by a hefty slap to my bare bum by a grinning Lachlan already up and dressed.

     “Up, landlubber,” he said, “Get that spunk-covered body of yours into that bathroom, pronto, only time for a pee.  Tides running.  Two minutes, chop, chop!”

     I dragged on running shorts, no pants and my jockstrap was not visible anywhere, pulled a shirt over my head, wriggled into plimsolls  and passed water as fast as possible and followed an impatient young whirlwind down the stairs and out across the lawn to the boathouse where Andrew was already standing by the boat.  Both Lachlan and I stopped and roared with laughter.  My jockstrap was much too big for Andrew, who stood there in an imposing manner smiling broadly, but with the elastic attached to the pouch hanging below the hem of his short shorts and the pouch hanging free too.

     “That's supposed to support you, you fool,” chortled Lachlan.

     “I'm wearing it and that's that.  I've put a couple of safety pins in the waistband so it won't come down but I didn't have time to deal with the rest.”  He was just as impatient to start my ordeal as Lachlan.  “Now you know exactly what to do, don't you?  You've watched us and we've told you what to do.  And if we all fall in you wait until we rescue you!”

     I think, to their amazement, I did pretty well.  The boat was not capsized.  We tacked gracefully up and reached Ipswich in good time.  I had watched the sails and gauged the wind just right all the way.  For once there was no backchat.  I was complimented by them both as we came to a standstill within the dock area.  We had the usual waves and greetings, “Where you bin, bor, we ain't sin yer?”, another laughed, “Slow boat to China!”  Under their gaze and Andrew's instruction I turned the boat and headed back downstream.  Lachlan had said on the journey up that we weren't going to look at Wolsey's Gate today with that child's knickers round his knees.  That was the only time I nearly lost concentration as `that child' made as if to stand up in the bow and rocked the boat alarmingly.  He knew what he was doing and sat down promptly mouthing “Sorry, Jacko”.

     On arrival back at the mooring both said how well I'd done.  Andrew then said, “Beginner's luck”, and then laughed.  Lachlan said, very seriously, it wasn't beginner's luck I had done exactly what I should do at every move and he remembered how a certain person had landed up wedged on the other bank when he was allowed a solo run by Billy Catchpole.  

     “I was only seven!” wailed Andrew in mock despair, “And he called me a cocky little bugger. And when I asked him what he meant he wouldn't tell me!”

     “And Dad clouted me when he came home on leave and you asked him what it meant and he said I wasn't to teach you such words.  I haven't forgiven you for that.  I didn't let on Billy said it and I told you what it meant and you weren't to say that word!” said Lachlan, grabbing at Andrew and rubbing his hands across both his ears.  “You're much too forward for your age, Mummy says, so watch what you say!”

     When this altercation finished we went up to the house for breakfast.  In the kitchen was young Georgie Catchpole chatting to Nanny Saunders.  He had a large round of toast and jam in his hand.

     Lachlan went straight up to him and said if he wanted he could come down this afternoon and he would take him out in the boat. The lad looked so pleased and said he would be there at two o'clock prompt.

     The rest of the morning was spent cycling off into the countryside again where other fields were being cut but we didn't stop as we didn't know the farmers.  I found a village post office and posted a card to Ma and Pa saying I was OK.

     After lunch Andrew and I sat on the bank while a very proud twelve-year-old Georgie took the rudder while Lachlan manipulated the sails.  Andrew said his Mum said Suffolk people took a long while to accept you but when they did you had good friends. Young Georgie hadn't said much to us before the boat-trip but afterwards he sat with us for quite a while chatting in his wonderful soft Suffolk burr.  He said we should come to the farm sometime and see his father's new goats which his grandad thought were a waste.  He said he liked them and one was quite a pet for him.  He waved goodbye as he said he had to get back as he was milking the goats later.

     I was then raced along to the pool and three naked youngsters were soon splashing around.  I was making progress too at swimming and Andrew did not muck around and the pair of them were able teachers.  Andrew asked if I minded acting if I was drowning and he would rescue me.  I didn't have to do much acting and the young eel deftly clung to me and dragged my hefty weight most proficiently.  They then practised on each other until Lachlan was satisfied with his brother's progress.  This left me space and time to practice my own gradually improving swimming.

     That evening after we went up to bed I got out the photo of Piers and Miles and found it fitted perfectly into the frame.  The boys wanted to see what I had done, so, saying nothing, I passed the frame to Lachlan with Andrew peering round him.

     Lachlan looked at it intently.  “I didn't know you rowed,” he said.  Then looked from me to the photo.  “You haven't got an older brother have you?”

     I shook my head. I couldn't say anything.  Lachlan had seen the likeness immediately.  Andrew piped up, “Is it an uncle?  `Cause that's an old photo, isn't it?”

     I said it wasn't an uncle, it was a distant cousin with his friend and I would tell them the whole story next day.  I put the photo on the dressing table and went to wash.  When I came back Lachlan was holding the photo and looking at it fixedly.

     “It's something special, isn't it?” he said.

     I nodded but said nothing more.  Anyway, as usual, Andrew provided a diversion.  He had just taken off his shirt and wasn't looking at us.  Lachlan looked over at him, nodded at me and smiled.  I went over and before he could evade me I lifted him bodily and held him against my chest.  Lachlan came over, unbuttoned his shorts and lowered them.  My modified jockstrap was revealed.  Not only were there the original  safety pins reducing the waist band but, in the interval before supper, Andrew must have used more pins to draw the elastic bits up and had cobbled the pouch together too.  It must have been a bit uncomfortable.

     “I thought he'd got worms at supper,” said Lachlan through his laughter, “He kept wriggling on his seat.”

     “I didn't wear it when we got back from sailing till tonight.” Andrew said.   “Let me down,” he demanded, trying to kick out, “Else I'll scream and Nanny will come to see what you are doing to me.”

     Lachlan pulled the jockstrap down and caught hold of Andrew's little nut-sac. “Try screaming now and see what'll happen!”

     Andrew stopped wriggling against me and I dropped him gratefully but, before Lachlan adjusted his grip to the falling object,  Andrew squealed as his balls got jerked and he clutched at Lachlan's hands.  “You've hurt me!”  He punched out and hit Lachlan square in the goolies.  It was Lachlan's turn to squeal.  He dropped to the floor clutching  himself.  I knelt by him while a now distraught Andrew put his arms round his neck.  “Sorry, Lachs, I didn't mean to hit you there.”  It took a minute or two before Lachs recovered.  I helped him to his feet and led him so he could sit on the side of the bed.  A little playful fun had gone wrong.  Andrew sat by his feet and put an arm round his legs.  “I'm sorry,..” he kept murmuring.  Lachs recovered and put his hand on Andrew's bowed head.

     “I'm OK, Andrew, I hope no damage done.  Sorry I grabbed you like that.”

     Andrew stood up and grasped at Lachlan's hand.  “I'm sorry too.”  The old Andrew was back.  “But it's all his fault.  He shouldn't have made me wear that thing!”  He looked at me and grinned.  “See, all your fault.”

     I said he was an ungrateful little beast and I didn't think I wanted him as a cousin and if he wasn't nice to me I might whack him where it hurt as well.  I was then pummelled and told to mind what I said as Fleas bite.

     Of course, I said, when we finally got into bed, the pair of them might be permanently damaged so I'd better check on them both.  I made them lie down side by side and said my real cousins had been checked this way and if I was going to have two new real cousins I had to check they were still OK.

     I knelt with their thighs together and their legs parted just as with Alun and Rhys.  I caught hold of a young, virile prick in each hand and wanked them slowly at the same time keeping my two hands exactly in step.  They looked up at me steadily, their mouths slightly open, their chests rising and falling together until Andrew grimaced and I felt his boy-juice pulsing up his shaft.  He produced much more tonight and it was also quite creamy as well.  I stopped wanking him and concentrated on Lachlan whose eyes were now closed.  His breath was coming now in fits and starts.

     Andrew was staring at my moving hand and smiled as the slit opened and Lachlan's load shot out up onto his chest and landed with a trail of creamy spots.  “He's OK,” he said, “Needs more than a light tap to turn off his supply, eh?”

     Lachlan struggled to get his breath back.  “Does he never stop?”  He shook his head resignedly again.

     “Get moving,” Andrew said to his brother, drawing his leg from between mine and shoving his brother in the bed.  “We've got to see if this so-called cousin is still capable, too.  He needs to be checked daily in case he is a Pharaoh and he might turn into a mummy, and Mummies are ladies so they don't have cocks...”  He realised what he'd said and the implications.  He looked at Lachlan.  “I didn't mean that but we know ladies don't...  And Mummy...”

     “There are mummies and Mummies,” I said hurriedly, “and I wouldn't be the female kind if I was a Pharaoh, would I?”

     “The sooner we mummify this one the better, I say,” grunted Lachlan moving over, making space for me to lie down between them, “ I suggest, Jacko, we start tomorrow, there's a book in Mum's room from the British Museum and it's got pictures in it.”

     “I'll tell Nanny Saunders,” said a slightly worried Andrew.

     “Hunh, she'll give us a couple of old sheets for bandages.”

     “If you do it, I won't hear Jacko's story.”

     “That's OK,” I said tousling his cropped hair, “I'll tell you while we're bandaging you up.  And I'm an expert at bandaging `cause I'm in the St John's Ambulance.”

     Two against one - he wasn't used to this.  Of course, both Lachlan and I gave the game away by giggling.

     “You aren't any Pharaoh either,” said Andrew, “And that cat only sat on you because you smell like one, I expect!”

     “That's enough, Andrew!” said Lachlan with a finality in his voice which both Andrew and I recognised was quiet authority.

     A hand came across and sought mine.  “Sorry Jacko.  Friends?”

     I gripped his hand.  “I shall send a special message to Rajah to squash you next time!”

     He giggled and rolled onto his side towards me.  “What did your cousins say when you checked them?”

     “Nothing, it's what they did.”

     “Like this?” asked Lachlan, rolling onto his side and down the bed seeking my cock with his open mouth.

     A battle ensued with my prick as the prize.  Both boys lapped and licked and jockeyed for position to take my rod into their mouths.  Both won in the end as Lachlan had both my balls in his wide open mouth while Andrew was merrily licking and sucking at my unsheathed head until my balls began to rise.  With this, Lachlan slid up and together they licked and lapped with Andrew's tongue just under my ridge.  Their soon-to-be real cousin proved himself.  I flooded my belly and chest and the pair of them licked at my warm come and presented me with their tongues to the tip of mine.

     We went to sleep like that, the pair of them against my sides, me on my back, until sometime in the night I must have turned on my side.
                              *

     It looked a bit squally in the morning so it was decided to clean the keel of the boat like the Sea Scouts had been doing to theirs.  After that was done we sat by the boat and I told them the whole story of Ulvescott.  I had brought the photo in its frame down to the boathouse wrapped in a pullover.  As the story unrolled I felt just like the old salt in the picture, sitting by his fishing boat, telling the two youngsters tales of his youthful adventures.  I didn't pull any punches anywhere in the story, how the boys were trying to do things to me when Bran howled, how Tom had tried to fuck me, calling me Piers and my connection of the name, Gordon Thomas, being like Tom's own name.  Whether it was coincidence or not, I said I didn't know. They had gasped and looked at each other when I got to the bit about Piers and Miles having been at their school and giggled when I told them about the code in the diaries.  I then explained what Uncle Edward had found out about my relationship to Miles and when I reached that final thing about the birthmarks they looked quite stunned.

     “Is that all true, Jacko?” Lachlan asked when I had finished.

     I nodded.  “I've told you most... the important bits.. There's more that's happened there and I'll tell you about Hans and Herr Vogel and all the other things another time.”

     “If they were at our school,” Andrew said, “they would be on the Honours Board with all the others.”

     Lachlan nodded in agreement.  “There's lots of names.  All those who were killed in that War.  We'll look when we go back.”


     After lunch we walked down to the farm and found the small field in which the goats were kept.  They were over the other side munching at stuff in metal containers.  Nosey Andrew wanted to see them closer so he went over the gate and strolled towards them and was stroking the back of one small white one when old Farmer Catchpole came along the track and joined us.  We greeted him and said young Georgie had told us about the goats.  He nodded sagely and sucked on his pipe.

     “Tha's my daft son he goos and buys those auld things and then tha' poor kid he has to look arter `em. Daft booger that son!”

     Andrew turned and saw we were talking to Mr Catchpole.  He waved and started walking back.  Then he suddenly turned, looked behind him and took off like greased lightning, sped across the field and nimbly climbed over the gate.  A very angry-looking billy goat stopped dead, snorting and pawing the ground.

     Mr Catchpole sucked on his pipe again.  “Do you tek my advice, bor, do you never turn your arse on anything with balls!”  With this laconic statement he waved his pipe at Andrew, said “Good-day” and ambled off up the track.

     Andrew, for once, was speechless.  Lachlan and I were looking at each other, spluttering with laughter.  The billy goat seeing no further adversary haughtily stalked off back to the group of still chewing goats.

     Lachlan poked Andrew in the back. “Do you unnerstan' thet, bor, an' his are bigger than yours so yuh can't miss seeing `em, eh, bor?  An' tha's a fact!” he said in a perfect Suffolk accent.

     Andrew's pride was hurt.  Nothing more. He turned and also stalked off, down the track, muttering imprecations of what he would do to young Georgie for not telling him there were wild beasts in the field.  It didn't last long.  Ten yards.  Then he turned his face creased up, he laughed, loud and long.

     Of course, that was the theme for the rest of day.  When I stood up after swimming a bit with Andrew behind me he swatted my backside, “Do you watch out, bor, tha's balls behind you”.

     I turned and grabbed him, we both submerged, me a bit more fearless now.  I caught hold of his nuts and, with total compliance on his part, we surfaced and stood face to chest.  “There were bigger balls than these on your Aunt's fancy cakes and at least they were silver and edible!” I said.

     I had made the mistake of not protecting my own.  A small hand cupped my cold, wrinkled sack.  “And what do you think these are?  - Ow!.”  He let go suddenly as Lachlan silently surfaced behind him.  Andrew's goolies had been claimed again.

     “Ya' watch it, bor, them's yer cousin's in front an' yer brotha's behind ya!”

     After we'd horsed around a bit we got out, rubbed ourselves down with the old towels we'd brought with us and then sunned ourselves on the grass.  The boys were full of questions about Ulvescott and I told them then about meeting Hans and how he and the other POW, Herr Vogel, were very nice and how we talked to each other in either German or French.  This stunned them.  Their brainy cousin again, especially when I told them I'd done the translations for ex-Sergeant Higg's trial.  But they were a bit apprehensive about me consorting with the enemy in such a way.  Weren't they dangerous? Their ideas of Germans were of people bombing us and killing soldiers.  I said I didn't think all Germans were like that and Hans certainly wasn't.  I don't think they were convinced until I told them about Matt's worries and what Hans had said and then how Tom and I had witnessed him beating his meat in the barn.  I said he was just like us and left it at that.

     In bed that night there were more questions.  The brothers must have had a little conflab at some time when I wasn't present.  We had settled down with me in the middle again, they on their sides facing me.

     “Do boys fuck each other, really?” asked Lachlan hesitantly, “Like you said Tom tried and those boys threatened with Andrew?”

     “They said they'd fuck me properly,” said a more confident Andrew, “And I've heard boys say that someone's got a nice arse and they wouldn't mind a bit.  And Potty says Grantham's had more dicks up him than he's had hot dinners....”

     “...True!” chimed in Lachlan, “Jeffreys told me he saw Grantham go off into the copse with that big lad in the Sixth, Colthorpe, I think, and he said they weren't going off to pick bluebells.”

     “You never told me that!”

     “You're much too young and innocent to learn of such things!” said Lachlan, chuckling.

     Andrew was not to be denied knowledge.  “He never tells me things like that.  I don't know if the others are telling the truth.  You'd tell me, wouldn't you?”  He put a hand on my arm and then put his face closer to mine.  “If Tom tried that time, did he do it really?”

     To absolute silence I said I had fucked Tom and also other friends and I'd been fucked as well.  I said, very quietly, you could only do it properly if you were good friends and they and you wanted it.

     “Is it as nice as been sucked like we do?” Andrew's quiet voice asked.

     The boys had learned that just over the past few days.  Tom, Mike, Matt and I had longer histories.  I couldn't lead them further.  I was still on the outskirts of their relationships.  I had been accepted wholeheartedly, but...  I didn't want to harm our growing relationship.  Andrew had already had one nasty experience.  Whatever happened he mustn't have another.

     I said that on each occasion it hadn't happened deliberately although there was a plea to take things further.  I said you had to trust the other person as damage could be done.  I said you could hurt someone not only physically.  I hadn't got that word in my vocabulary but the boys understood and they knew what I meant about hurting people other ways.

     Andrew squeezed my arm.  “I was really scared with those boys, but I'm alright now I've told you both about it and Lachs has promised not to kill them...  I wouldn't want to do it to anyone I didn't think was willing.  I'm not sure I want it done to me.”

     I said no one should do anything they didn't want to and I felt Lachlan nodding in agreement beside me.

     Three silent, contemplative boys felt for each others rampant shafts and slowly and quietly each was dispossessed of their daily output by one, then two questing hands, until three streams pooled on the central boy's stomach.

     A quiet voice whispered by the side of the central boy, “Could it be more perfect than that?”

                    Friday 1st September 1944

     We were up early again to sail up river to Ipswich where we would disembark and they would show me some of the sights.  Andrew, this time, managed the sails, while Lachlan steered with the rudder.  I had to watch carefully as I would be in charge of the rudder on the way back.  

     We found a bit of jetty with steps and the boat was fastened securely.  A couple of the men on the dock said they would keep an eye on the boat for us.  It wasn't far as we soon found the church where, near it, was the only remains of the college which Wolsey had planned for Ipswich.  A rather broken-down old arch was all that was left. Lachlan said his Dad had told him all about Wolsey and  King Henry and how Henry's divorce changed the whole country for ever.  His father had said he had wondered if the last King's divorce would have an effect.  Andrew said he didn't know how Henry managed having six wives. I pointed out he didn't have them all at the same time.  I got a thump for that.  Lachlan said his father had studied History at Cambridge and wanted to write a book about the old Suffolk which he had explored when on leave from the Army.  He sounded quite wistful and I thought to myself that he must miss not having a father around.  Then he said he hadn't known his father very well at all because he was away in London so much and then he and Andrew were away at school as well.

     We didn't roam about much as Andrew complained he was hungry and wanted his breakfast so we soon set off back down river and I didn't cause any mishaps.


     At lunch-time Nanny Saunders said that Uncle Edward was coming the next day and staying until Sunday evening and we would be having the pheasants for Sunday lunch and young Georgie had brought another brace.  After mooching about a bit Andrew said he would go to the farm as Nanny wanted some vegetables so I went with Lachs to the pool and he coached me in doing the crawl and I did gain in confidence.  He said not having that imp along all the time also helped.  I said I didn't mind the imp and Lachs just raised his eyes to heaven!

     We towelled and stuck our shorts on and strolled up to the house intending to raid Nanny's store of goodwill and food.  A small figure darted across the lawn into the shrubbery in the distance some way off from us.  A second small figure appeared moments later in hot pursuit.  Lachlan looked at me and raised his eyes heavenwards again.

     We could hear thudding footsteps as the first runner burst through the shrubbery just in front of us.  He stopped, panting.  It was Georgie.

     “Thass that Andrew,” he said, laughing and panting at the same time, “He said that there old goat's dangerous and I said auld Billy's tame as a kitten and I could see him run like that if old Jerry came at him with one of they auld bayonets!”

     Andrew burst through the shrubbery then.  “Oh, there he is, come here!”  He made a grab for Georgie but Lachlan caught hold of him and restrained him.  I stood behind Georgie and put my arms round his shoulders protectively.  “Cheek, as if I would run away from the enemy,” chuntered Andrew, “I said I'd show him what the British Army would do and he said I ran away from that goat faster than those Ities would!”

     Georgie wasn't at all perturbed, “Come on down and I'll show you thass old goat.”

     Lachlan and I were grinning at the defeated Andrew.

     “That's right, Andrew,” said Lachlan, “Let's go and see how the British Army would deal with an attack by massed ranks of goats, or even one!”

     Lachlan, with a slightly bemused Andrew, marched off towards the lane to the farm.  I followed with Georgie.

     “Do you want to larn ta milk?” asked Georgie, “I'll a show ya. T'aint too easy to start but I like it.  Grandad gives me a shilling a day for the milk.  Auld booger sells it then.  My Dad'd put it in the auld pub if he had the money and Grandad says he can't hev it.”

     We reached the field and the gate.  Georgie calmly opened it and whistled.  The small herd of goats looked up.  He whistled again and the billy goat left the group and came trotting up.

     Georgie turned to us, all safely behind the closed gate. “Do you come in here, Andrew, he ain't a going to hurt ya.”  He stroked the goat's head.  “Do you come on in, Andrew, I ain't awaiting all day for you.”

     A rather reluctant Andrew opened the gate slightly and sidled in.  He slowly went up to Georgie and stood with Georgie between him and the goat.  The goat turned his head and looked at him.

     “Do you give him a stroke and you tek his halter and do you lead him and tie him to that rail.”

     Andrew looked at Georgie.  Georgie was serious.  Andrew had been instructed to lead the wild, dangerous beast....  He held out a tentative hand which Georgie took and placed on the goat's head.  He stroked it while Georgie leaned down to retrieve the short halter hanging from his neck.  He handed the end of that to Andrew.  He took two steps forward and the goat obediently walked at his side and they continued across the field.

     Andrew carefully picked up the rope hanging from the rail.  “Do you make a proper reef knot, bor, and not one o' they daft auld clove hitches,” called out Georgie.  Andrew had won and Lachlan had been reminded of one of his failures.  Georgie turned.
     “I told ya thass was easy.  You two come along o' me together now and we'll larn ya to milk.”

     I will say the goats were lovely creatures, they were friendly and the billy-goat seemed contented when I held out a small bunch of hay for him to chew. Learning to milk was hilarious, but Georgie was an excellent instructor.  I managed after my poor goat had been tugged at for five minutes or so to suddenly produce a thin, more or less continuous stream of milk which hissed into the tin canister.  We were not expert like Georgie and Lachlan was less successful than Andrew or me.  In the end, Georgie said he would finish the milking himself and Lachlan said if he came round in the morning we would row across to the other bank and he could come with us on a ramble.     We stroked the billy-goat's head before leaving.

     As we turned to go, Georgie looked up at Andrew from his position kneeling by the goat he was expertly milking..  “Thass auld goat a-chased you, bor, `cos he thought you'd a come along to tup his gals.”

     I am afraid poor Andrew was teased all afternoon and evening after that.  `Tup his girls' became our catch-phrase. Because Lachlan and I were laughing and giggling so much at supper-time Mrs Cameron wanted to know what all the hilarity was. Lachlan explained that seeing Andrew lead the goat across the pasture was very funny and then Georgie had taught us how to milk and that was funny, too.  `Tup his girls' was not mentioned.

     Andrew sat stony-faced.  “I think I was very brave.  That was a wild animal and they hid behind the gate until I was across the field.  And then he couldn't aim straight into the bucket and only got about three squirts anyway.  At least Jacko managed to half fill his.”

     “You were very brave,” I said, “I don't mind admitting that animal looked vicious.  But that Georgie's a real character, isn't he?”

     A mollified Andrew looked at me and smiled.  The first time he'd smiled for the past two or three hours.  “I like Georgie,” he said, “he's just like his brother.  And he could control wild beasts too!”  He looked meaningfully at his own brother.

     “I suppose you mean me,” his brother said patiently.  “Was it when I lost my temper when I broke the mast, or fell in, or split that sail?”

     “Give it up, you two,” his mother intervened, “And, behave yourselves while Edward's here.  He's up for promotion so he might be a bit edgy.”

     “My Dad's already a lieutenant-colonel,” I said.  The boys' heads swivelled.  “And I got pips as well, but only honorary.  I'll show you when we go upstairs.”

     No, I was sent upstairs there and then.  They also told me to bring the photo as well.  I fished the two pips out of my school blazer pocket where I always kept them.  Although I'd told them about Mike and the firing-range trip I hadn't said about Pa and Dr O'Brien getting military ranks.  They were mightily impressed.  Brainy cousin-to-be has brainy Dad who is also a colonel!
     I then had to re-tell the story of my relationship to the Crossleys showing Aunt Della and Nanny Saunders the photo.  Aunt Della said that Edward had told her some of the story and it was quite fascinating and would make a good plot for a book.  Nanny Saunders said I was certainly like the boy in the photo.

     Ribbing poor Andrew continued when we went up to bed.  I asked him if he wanted to tup a nice young goat or could we practice milking on him.  Between us we held him down and putting a finger and thumb either side of his prick squeezed and pulled just as Georgie had taught us to hold the goat's teats.  As we both so-called `practised' on him he squealed and tried to resist our efforts. We didn't do it too much each time so he was getting more and more worked up as we `practised', stopped, changed milkers and `practised' again.

     “It's more difficult getting milk out of this goat,” I said, “We need a lot more practice.”

     We slowed down the rate and increased the intervals and I thought of the tied-up Tom begging for release.  Andrew by now had got to the “Please, please,” stage and Lachlan was highly delighted that he had some assistance in giving his brother some comeback.  After nearly half an hour Lachlan looked at me and nodded, it was his turn to `practise' and this time he kept on.  Lachlan's efforts at milking were well-rewarded.  A stream of now more-creamy spunk gushed out of Andrew's slit as he jerked and bounced on the bed when it happened.  “Shilling for that lot,” I said, “Not quite a bucket-full, though!”

     As he calmed down Andrew looked down at the creamy mess on his stomach and belly.  His smile showed his realisation he was developing. “Gosh, Lachs,”  he said, “Mine's getting just like yours!”

     He insisted that his goats had to be milked by a real expert so to giggles and satisfied “Aaaah”'s from both of us our `milk' soon appeared under his expert fingers.

     We lay huddled together after that, alert for any sounds from the dreadful world outside, but safe in our own camaraderie.  No sounds came and we slept.

                         *

     Young Georgie was waiting patiently down at the boat house when we got down there after breakfast.  Lachlan did his expert rowing and all four landed safely on the other bank.  Nanny Saunders had supplied us with loads of sandwiches and bottles of pop which Lachlan and I had to carry.  Georgie and Andrew set off together and we could hear them laughing and chatting as we sauntered along behind them.

     Lachlan was in a contemplative mood.  We chatted a bit but, as we strolled along looking over hedges and peering into the gardens of the cottages we passed, he really had little to say.  In the end we sat on the top of a five-barred gate while the two others were exploring a rather murky stream which flowed under the road nearby.  There was silence again, then Lachlan turned to me.

     “Jacko,” he said quietly, “You know that other thing boys can do....”  He looked at me.  I nodded.  I knew what he meant.  “Is it good?  I mean, did you like it....?”   This was difficult.  How could I express my feelings? Each time I supposed there had been an element of exploration but finally I knew that I would only ever want to do it to, or have it done by, someone I trusted deeply, and dare I think it, perhaps loved in some way.  I thought of Matt and Mike.  Two friends I trusted and felt very close to.  Tom and my cousin Alun - accepting, big-hearted, would be others to trust, for ever....  In the silence between us we heard Georgie upbraiding Andrew “Thass not an ould newt, ya gret lummox!”.  I spoke slowly and carefully.

     “I think you'd know if you wanted someone in that way.”  I nodded.  “It's been great but it is much more than some of the other things.”

     “I just wondered,” he said, “I suppose I'm curious about it.  Andrew's a bit young to have heard all the things I've heard.”  He looked at me.  I wondered what he thought. Here is a boy, barely two months older than his brother, knowing and doing all sorts of things he had only ever heard about - he was nearly seventeen, and....  He spoke softly.  “Do you think we could?”  He looked across at where Georgie and Andrew were now scooping up piles of mud to make a dam. “I don't want Andrew to know..., yet...., but I trust you.” He smiled .  “And we are to be cousins and we are friends, aren't we?”

     I said it would be difficult keeping things from Andrew.  Where would we go? When?  Andrew would sense something was going on.  He smiled and nodded.  Some sort of pact had been made.

     Georgie and Andrew were now tired of mucking about in the stream.  Georgie was definitely in charge.  “Do you get that there ould mud off of you, Andrew, do your moither'll give you what for!”

     The lads came up to us.  Andrew, arms mud-caked, stood in front of us and eyed us suspiciously.

     “And what have you two old codgers been planning?”  He stood, arms akimbo.  Two streaks of mud also adorned his face and his hair looked as if he been pulled through a hedge backwards.  I was reminded of the illustration of Just William on the cover of one of the volumes I had.

     “For God's sake boy, clean yourself up and leave us in peace,” said Lachlan, in mock exasperation and the sort of tones one heard from irate schoolmasters.

     Georgie stood beside Andrew, taller than him by inches even at the age of twelve, and looked him up and down.  “Thass a daft booger you hev for a brother, Lachlan, he knas nought about nawthing. Him, he wants to get up early in't morning to get some sun in his brain!”

     The `daft booger' turned on his adversary who skittered off, laughing, over the field with Andrew in hot pursuit.  The two old codgers grinned at each other.  Andrew had met his match.

     The pair chased around, Georgie evading Andrew at every move, until they ended up panting in front of us.  Georgie turned to Andrew. “Do they together look like a pair o' they ould crows up there?  You'd a think their ould arses're nailed to thet there gate when us are needing some good vittles.  We'm parched and hungry, eh, Andrew?”

     Lachlan pointed Andrew to the stream where he attempted to clean off some of the mud.  We unpacked the food in the haversacks and sat and ate and chatted.  Georgie was a revelation.  He had won a scholarship much younger than most and was at a prestigious Ipswich school.  “Some o' they daft boogers there think I'm a bit simple `cos I'm proper Suffolk.  They call me Suffolk swede or turnip-top and want ta know if I have mangel-wurzels for breakfast.  I hev `em though, cos I got the Form prize just now! And last year!”  He looked at Andrew.  “He ain't slow, neither, I'll sey that.  He'll larn!”  High praise!  Georgie was obviously the apple of his granddad's eye and this was reciprocated in the way the lad spoke of the old man.  Lachlan asked if he'd heard from his brother and the lad's eyes lit up.  “Thass ould Billy, he do well!  He drives a tank.  Grandad says if he drives that like that ould tractor the Jerries'll be a-dying laughing and forget to shoot!”

     After finishing the last of the food we continued our walk and, at the end of a straggling village, an elderly lady asked us if we would like to have some gooseberries.  The big reddish yellow fruit were delicious and Georgie warned Andrew who was stuffing himself and complaining about the prickles on the bushes, “Do you eat too many of they goosegogs, bor, do you get the runs!”.   We thanked the lady who was laughing at Georgie's warning and walked on.  We had circled round, which I hadn't realised, and ended up at the end of the track which led across the mud flat to where we had left the boat.  On arrival, all safe and sound, on our side of the river Georgie turned to Lachlan.  “Fur a furriner you'm got good Suffolk ways and so'um your brother and that gret dark cousin of yours.  I thank ye, kindly!”  He turned and walked off towards the lane to the farm and his precious goats.  There was a twelve-year-old with an ancient head on his shoulders!  Aunt Della said that when we recounted our adventure later.  As she explained, although she had been born here and so had Lachlan and Andrew, their roots were not yet considered as deep as the natives of the area, they were still `foreigners'.  But, Georgie had made that first step of acceptance.

     Of course, when we arrived back Uncle Edward was there, as usual, deckchair, papers and the inevitable glass of something stimulating.  We approached quietly, bare-chested, our shirts tied round our waists.  He looked up and gasped in mock horror.

     “Call out the Sepoys, it's Mowgli and the Bandar-log!  Ha, ha!  `Brother, thy tail hangs down behind'!” he declaimed, pointing at Andrew who had one sleeve of his shirt trailing behind him.  “And where have you been my weary, mud-spattered son-to-be?”  He didn't wait for an answer. His gaze was directed at Lachlan and me.  “The respectable ones!  Congratulations to your uncle and your soon-to-be-father.  Lieutenant-Colonel Edward Charles Thomson, at your service, sirs.”

     We all rushed over to him.  He laughed as we congratulated him.  Andrew said it was worth five-bob for each of us as he must be being paid millions now.  He was called a mercenary little toad and whacked on his backside though he clung to Edward's arm trying to shake his hand.  Uncle Edward said he was taking their mother into Ipswich that evening to celebrate but there were special rations for us which Nanny Saunders had in the kitchen for later.

     The congratulations were interrupted by Andrew getting up from where he was kneeling by the deckchair and rushing indoors.  Ten minutes later he came back.  No, he hadn't been to see what the supper rations were.  “Gooseberries” was his only answer to our question of where had he been.  Of course, when his mother then appeared, wrinkling her nose, we tittle-tattled to her that he had gorged himself on the lady's fruit and was suffering as a consequence.  He was ordered inside to be dosed with Dr Collis Browne's by Nanny Saunders and we had a quiet half-hour without him while we told Uncle Edward and Aunt Della about Georgie and our adventure.  The pair of us then wandered down to the boat-house and sat on the little jetty.

     “I want you to do it to me,” Lachlan said slowly and deliberately as we sat there, sucking on the ends of pieces of grass we had picked on the way, “I trust you...., and I know we like each other...”  He stopped, he was nervous about saying more.  He didn't need to, there was genuine affection between us.  I had felt that with both brothers that first night.  There was nothing to add.  I nodded and the pact was sealed more securely.

     The extra rations was a sumptuous pork pie which Uncle had wheedled from the Mess Steward saying it was one less pound of fat on the Commandant's belly.  Aunt Della shook her head in mock disapproval.  She looked very smart as they got into the old cab and Nanny Saunders said she was going to stroll up to the farm to see old Mrs Catchpole and Andrew was told to mind his tongue when he said there must be some new gossip around.  Lachlan and I were told to keep an eye on him and she would be back soon.

     It was early evening still - warm and bright.  As we heard the door close behind Nanny Saunders Andrew looked at us.

     “If you two want to go off to the boat-house I don't mind.  But it's my turn tomorrow night.  I'll be better then.  You'd better take one of those old blankets in the chest on the landing in case you get splinters.”  He smiled his quirky smile.  Lachlan looked at him and shook his head.

     “There's not much you don't know, is there?”

     Andrew smiled back and nodded.  “I love the pair of you, but you'd better get going before Nanny Saunders gets back.”

     I went upstairs and found a blanket, Andrew smiled and waved as I passed the drawing-room door on the way out.  I joined a rather nervous Lachlan on the path near the boat-house.  We didn't say anything to each other as I spread the blanket on the wooden landing by the side of the boat.  Lachlan closed the doors and the boat-house was lit by the sunlight through the roof window.  Silently we took off our shirts and shorts and plimsolls and lay side by side on the blanket.  He moved his head towards me, his mouth open.  I met his lips and we pressed our tongues gently then more forcefully into each others mouths.  We had our arms round each other and both were massaging each other's backs and feeling those humps and ridges and those prominent muscles both of us had developed in our buttocks.  His hand came up to my neck and he held my head tightly against his open mouth.  I forced a hand between us and felt our erect lengths, side by side, pulsing with our increasing heart-beats.  I put my hand further down and cupped both ball sacs and weighed those precious possessions carefully as he clasped and unclasped his hand rhythmically on my buttock.  He was very worked up very quickly.

     “Please do it to me first...., teach me,” he whispered as he moved his head away and started to nibble my ear. “There's something in my shorts pocket.  I think we'll need it.”

     He rolled slightly away.  “Bradley said if I wanted to do it to him I had to use this.  But we haven't.  He wanted me to, but I was a bit scared.”

     `This' was a small jar of Vaseline.  I knew all about that.  I whispered back that it was perfect.  I got him to roll onto his back and raise his legs a bit and then leaned over him and we tongue-fucked again.  I had dipped my first two fingers into the jar so I slowly felt down between his legs and circled his tightly closed hole with a dry finger.  He winced slightly at the contact then relaxed.  I then gently put some of the jelly onto his hole and massaged around it.  As he relaxed more I carefully pressed the tip of my second finger against the wrinkled bud.  My greasy finger prised open the closed ring and stayed there.  I used my first finger to massage more jelly round and pressed a little more.  Almost imperceptibly my second finger went further in and I felt his muscular ring pulse round it.  He was so relaxed I pushed more and the finger went deeper into the warm cavity.  While it was in I pressed my first finger against it and his slit opened more.  He groaned as this second finger entered him.  I stopped and we continued to tongue-fuck and he was still exploring my back and neck and buttocks.  As I had found before, that slow approach and the slow almost unnoticeable widening using two fingers made the next step so much easier to accomplish.

     I worked my fingers back and forth for several minutes.  He was becoming very worked up.  The claspings and probings on my back were becoming more insistent and almost violent.  It was raising my own temperature too so I knew I must act soon.  I rolled on top of him and almost instinctively he crossed his legs round my back.  I looked down at his face and he smiled. Gently, I shifted my body so my shaft rested against my probing fingers.  Gradually, I guided it until the tip touched the slightly opened hole.  I pushed and took my fingers out at the same time keeping my eyes fixed on his.  If he showed the slightest pain or discomfort I knew I would not continue however much I needed to for my own benefit.  I felt the tightness of his muscle.  The tightness eased and the thick head of my prick entered him.  I lay very still.  There had been the slightest quiver on his face, not fear, just a look of `what was that?'.  I judged I could continue so pressed slightly again.  Another quarter of an inch or so of me moved into him.  We were still intently staring at each other.  He nodded very slightly, I pushed more and I was slowly enveloped.  With great care I withdrew a bit and pushed again.  He looked at me transfixed as I began to press and withdraw in gradually more and more wider sweeps, back and forth.  He closed his eyes and his smile changed to a peaceful set of his lips.  I leaned down and touched his forehead with my lips as his hips began to move up and down to meet my thrusts and aid my withdrawals.

     “More,” he whispered, “More.., more...,”

     My prick was then about three quarters of its length in him.  I gave a slightly greater push and sank right in.  He had his arms round me and held me so tight I could only make small movements.  But these were enough, I felt his warm seed spurt out against me just before my own was given up to him as deeply as I could.  After a minute or so of him clinging to me like this we rolled onto our sides and I slowly withdrew my still hard prick from him.  That was the time he gasped.  The intruder had been accepted, willingly, unreservedly.  It had been withdrawn after giving of its whole self.  It wasn't a gasp of pain, but of loss.

     He nuzzled my face.  “Oh, Jacko!” he murmured.

     We lay just caressing each other's backs.  No longer the frenzy but the quietness of intimacy.  This process went on for uncountable time until I knew he was ready to find pleasure in me.  Slowly and deliberately I found the jar.  I put his fingers into its contents.  He copied my previous actions, tenderly anointing me, then seeking my compliance to his probing finger.  I knew I wanted him, his finger entered me easily.  The exploration was slow, deliberate, intentional.  One finger, two fingers, probing, questing.  I was ready very quickly and moved him between my legs and lay on my back.  My knees were raised with my feet on the ground.  His slim, lithe young body fitted between my legs perfectly and I was an easy target for that long, steel-hard rod of his.  I was so ready he had no difficulty in pressing the whole of that mushroom headed monster fully into me with a few thrusts of his muscular buttocks.  His needs were urgent.  I doubt if he made forty desperately intense thrusts before he came a second time that evening.  His whole body seemed aflame as he jerked and forced his spunk deep, then deeper, into me.  He collapsed on top of me groaning and clutching at my shoulders.  I put my arms round him to show he was safe.  He lathered my face with kisses, ardent, fiery, hot-blooded, passionate.  He was lost in sensations which I had experienced myself before, but this was his first time.  Hot tears dropped on my face. I hugged him closer and I could feel his hips still jerking uncontrollably against me forcing the remains of that gift of himself into me.

     His all-consuming raging ardour died down.  I kissed his eyes, his cheeks, his ears, his lips.  We nuzzled and nipped, caressed and stroked, gradually reducing the heat and fervour of those two all-consuming displays of unrestrained passion.  His hard prick softened and fell away from me and he moved so we could lie side by side again.

     “You...?” he whispered as he realised I hadn't come a second time and my prick was still hard. “For you...,” he murmured as he ringed my cock and slowly wanked me I until spurted, filling his hand with my boy-cream.  “Oh, Jacko...,” he whispered, as we lay so still willing time to stop.  

     Slowly, gradually, we recovered some semblance of sense.  He still held me tightly having rid himself of my load onto the edges of the blanket.

     “Oh, Jacko,” he said, with such feeling, “Please don't think I'm silly but I never knew I could feel so safe and secure with someone since I heard that Dad had been killed.  I want to tell you things I haven't been able to tell anyone else.  I know Mum loves me and Andrew loves me and I'm sure Edward and Nanny do, but I'm not at home, I'm with friends at school, and there's always this feeling, who am I?  I worry and wonder if things are alright.  I'm nearly seventeen, I should be nearly grown-up but I've never had anyone to talk to like this.”  He looked into my eyes.  “You understand, I know you do.  You couldn't share such things as we've done tonight if you didn't care and know....  That wasn't just an experiment, was it?  You wanted the best for me and I did for you....”

     There were so many ideas and thoughts here I was a little bewildered.  I was only fourteen, no, almost fifteen, and Lachlan was so much older and although I knew I was thinking much more deeply about things an